Broken Streams
by Aerista
Summary: [ ON HIATUS ] Timelines are like spiderwebs. Strong when threaded together, but one loose thread, means the whole web can come crashing down.
1. Beginning of the End of the Beginning

Blood. It's a common look to most who live above or below. Either white speckles or red ooze of which never subsides without immediate care. Blood doesn't all look the same. Especially this kind. The kind that doesn't look quite right, but feel like oil slick on the skin. It looks like blood. Dust. Ashen and sticky. It felt good. Like lotion. Invulnerability. It was sick.

Bright red eyes and skin as pale as moonlight. A shirt stained with the lives of hundreds. Maybe more. Maybe thousands. It's hard to tell, but the lack of life created by one… _two_ creatures was astounding. Lifelessness surrounded this world. At this point, the emptiness could echo the ring of a dropping splash for miles. It wasn't truly silent, though. Whispers that were once quiet were louder than ever. A haunt. Torturous. Screams. Scraping. A smile…a damned smile that know what it's been doing all along. What it's goal was and that now it's finally done it, the smile never fades away.

You've finally made it. Are you proud? Look at what you've done and remember it, because everything else is going to remember and whether or not you do depends on you. Depends on a handful of lives left between you and your end game. Between you and the sadistic hell you're going to bring. A tumor. A cancer. A shit-faced facade that will trick thousands into your ploy. A smile can trick people for miles and a knife can make sure they never think otherwise of you. Their screams, oh how delicious. You're a monster, are you proud? Of course you are. Or, that is, so you hope.

The halls were filled with gold, made of the stuff. Embellished with accents. Purple and white. The light reflected off the floor with a shimmer that seemed almost whimsical. Normally, it would be, but the shimmer was a spark that would be the last flicker in this world turned to hell. The sound of shoes echoing filled a large void. Drips followed in suit. Trail of death following. Ghosts aimlessly surrounding. Unseen.

One end of the hall was only disturbed by a figure in shadow, short of stature, hands in pockets. The footprints approached, ticking slowly to a stop. A ghastly smell of blood and dust and the souls of the departed wafted their way gently down the golden halls. Breathing was nonexistent between the two, as if they had no reason to breathe. As if they never learned to breathe in the first place.

 **heya. you've been busy, huh?**

Silence. Grotesque silence.

 **so…i've got a question for ya. Do you think even the worst person can change? that everybody can be a good person, if they just try?**

Silence. The figure chuckled, something that could only be equivocated to pain.

 **all right. well here's a better question:**

 **do you want to have a bad time?**

 **'cause if you take another step, you are _really_ not going to like what happens next.**

The steps continued forward, tears of red heading down its face.

The shadowed figure came out into the sun, a skull with one blue eye approaching itself, leading only with a shrug.

 **welp. sorry, old lady. this is why i never make promises. y'know…it's a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming…on days like these…**

 **kids like you should be burning in hell.**

Steps sped toward the skeleton, dagger gripped tightly and ready for its first and final strike on its tar—

It missed.

 **huh…always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first.**

 **oh..what? you think i'm just gonna stand there and take it? and i thought i was the one who's supposed to be tellin' jokes**

The skeleton raised its hand, the blue light trailing down its face and down its arm electric shocks and whirling energy Its hand clenched into a fist, lifting his hand up. At that moment, the figure streaked in blood raised from the floor with a violent upwind. Bones began to pour in from the skies, scraping and scarring the body in the air. Some were sharpened, impaling the figure. After it being thrown to the ground, the skeleton smirked.

 **our reports showed a massive anomaly in the timespace continuum. timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting. . .until suddenly, everything ends.**

 **that's your fault, isn't it?**

Something strange was going on, though. Even though this _thing_ had been dodging, maneuvering, and trying to stay alive, it wasn't fighting back. It looked more like there was some fighting that wasn't of his own provoking. He was getting nervous. The thing's red tears kept flowing, body limp but dead smile still there. It moved slowly, limply. As if it was trying to die. The skeleton let his hand fall to his side, retreating then to the pocket it was once housed in. Eye still blue. Vibrant. Pulsating. Alive.

 **you can't understand how this feels. Knowing one day that without any warning…it's all going to be reset. look…i gave up trying to go back a long time ago. and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal to me anymore, either. Cause, even if we do, we'll just end up right back here. without any memory of it, right?**

 **to be blunt…it makes it kind of hard to give it my all. or is that just a poor excuse for being lazy? hell if i know. all i know is seeing what comes next…i can't afford not to care anymore.**

He took a step forward.

 **listen…I know you didn't answer me before, but somewhere in there i can feel it, y'know? a glimmer of a good person inside of you. the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing. someone who, in another time…might have even been…a friend?**

It was with that phrase that had the figure curl in on itself, screaming. Scratching at its face. No words. never any words with this one. Wrapped in its own warped reality of turmoil and aggression. The knife had fallen out of its hand. So many voice. Yelling. Arguing. Chanting. Different voices. None of them were its.

A heart shaped light appeared from its turmoil, hovering at the skeleton's eye level. He could end it here. The red color corrupted to mostly black. All black on the outside, but something still radiated hope. A glimmer. Honestly, it was a bit underwhelming, but it was the best shot he had. It was clear that whatever was happening to this thing wasn't going to stop any time soon and, seeing as it was his turn, he _could_ try something that would just end up backfiring, but it was worth the only shot in the revolver.

Focusing wasn't his strong-suit, but it was something that could be done in a pinch. His body fizzled, almost like a glitch. He knew he could end this right here with one keyword:

 **RESET**

The big glowing fruit of temptation. Could this truly be happening? Take advantage of it. He knew the pain for himself would continue. Perhaps others as well, he didn't know. Reseting was the ultimate game. Time lost only to be regained again. For how long or short it would be this time was unknown. It always was unknown. But every time, he remembered. Every time he knew that there was something…some _one_ always waiting to fall down that damned hole in the mountain. Over and over again. It was painful at this point. sometimes, good things. Sometimes tragic. Sometimes mundane. He's lost his brother, his friends, almost everyone so many times over that it was numb. It was a Groundhog day where there was no happy ending. Where the loop never stops. It was painful to the point where it didn't even seem worth it anymore. Even still, it never hurt as much as this. They never went this far before. He could always stop them. This time was different.

It didn't matter now. This time loop was going to finish. Whether it wants it to or not. For the first time, he meddled in a timeline that wasn't his own. A loop that, for the first time, could be altered by him. Power was a dangerous net. Still, he'd remember for the future. If there was a future to be had. Fist held tight, he looked down for the last time this loop, chuckling a bit to himself as the thing kept screaming.

 **let's forget all this, okay?**


	2. Mundane Travesty

Sweat. Sweat and heartbeats racing and panting. Eyes are wide as the body jolts up, hand clutched over the heart. It was a dream. The same dream she's had for years. No amount of internet searches could help her with it. No therapist could explain it. With a deep breath, they took the pill bottle and poured out two, swallowing them without much hesitation. Anti-psychotics. Every morning the world turned a little more grey with each dose they took. By now, the world was pretty grey all on its own. Drab clouds blocked out most sunlight. A city barely waking. That was their view every day. They closed their eyes, laying back before realizing that yes, that was their alarm going off and, yes, it went off under their bed for some strange reason.

Dragging themself out of bed, they ran fingers through their hair and changed from a tank top and shorts into a long sleeved sweatshirt and some jeans with that tank top still underneath because hey, it was comfortable and they'd take what they could get as far as comfort went. They looked at their wall floor mirror, brushing some of their bangs out of their eyes. Scruffy brown hair, freckled complexion. Yup. Just the same as yesterday. Some whistling came from downstairs, assumedly someone whistling in the midst of making some breakfast due to the smell of smoking pig fat coming through the cracks of the door.

The steps creaked as they went down, their bedroom door having had been right in front of the stairs. The living room they entered in was strewn about with some shoes and clean laundry that had yet to be folded. They turned the corner and went in the kitchen where a middle-aged woman in her pajamas was making food. She turned to them and smiled. "Good morning, sweetie. How'd you sleep?"

They shrugged, passing off a smirk of reassurance and sat down at the small table on the other side of the counter. The table was probably the most impressive thing in this house, other than the cooking of course. They pulled their flip phone from the charger next to the table and began doing the routine morning check. No messages. No photos. No e-mails. They sighed, pocketing the phone and watching out the window, waiting to see the sun peek out. Maybe? Nope. Okay. They felt a rub on their head, a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast being placed in front of them.

"Thought I'd make you breakfast for your special day, kiddo. It's not everyday that someone turns eighteen, huh?" The woman placed a kiss on their head before going and doing some cleaning up in the kitchen and living room. "I took the day off today, so I can actually help you celebrate this year, seeing as I owe you one. Or five. No…no four I think." The woman laughed before going to them and hugging them. "I'm proud of you, Frisk. Now come on," she said, breaking the hug. "Eat up. I'll drive you in today. My treat." With a wink, Mom was off.

Frisk smiled, taking the fork and eating up quickly and with vigor. Right. Birthday. That's what they forgot! Years just passed on and on, it never really seemed to mean much of anything, especially to their mom. Usually, she just worked and would have bought a cupcake or something with a candle and a note. What made this year so special? Because they were 18? No…there had to be something else.

Finishing up breakfast, Frisk took their dishes and cleaned them off, placing them in the drying rack before heading back upstairs to get their bag.

"Remember, sweetie, you've got that field trip today in third period! Your lunch is packed in the fridge!" Frisk gave a thumbs up before heading back to their room. Their little slice of life. Posters were plastered on the walls, some faded from years of direct sunlight. They grabbed the bag off their rolling desk chair, grabbing a book off the table, and heading downstairs to grab their lunch. A buzz muffled in their pocket. A text from George.

"Hey, Frisk! You hype for today's trip?"

A smirk. "Yeah, I am. Kinda nice to get out of the classroom for once." Sending the text, they picked up their clean and now hastily folded laundry and put it at the bottom of the stairs for later. "Do you know where it is?"

"I heard it's that really creepy mountain. That'd be so cool."

"Guess so. We doing rock collecting or something?"

"Don't know. It's a surprise, I guess. You coming in? Didn't see you on the bus."

"I am. Mom's driving me. We're heading out now."

"Alright! See you in a bit. And hey, happy birthday dude."

"Thannks. ttyl."

Drives to school were a bit abysmal, especially on days like these where the sun couldn't shine through. Stuck behind gray barriers that wished nothing more than to slow the world down physically and emotionally. Traffic also helped with this, as rush hour was never a good time, even in a small town like this. It was the beginning of summer traffic and tourists were flocking to the mountain for videos, pictures, and more. Nobody in town actually went to the mountain, at least, not on their own accord.

Radio chatter mumbled on and on in the background as Frisk stared out the window. Some early morning podcast that her mom was fond of. It had some charm to it, but it really wasn't something that was interesting this early in the morning. Mostly daily news, stuff like that. The trees that passed through the winding roads and buildings towering above seemed almost like a movie that never stops repeating. Endless loops of things that never really mattered. A faint smile spread their lips. Something so simple always seemed so comforting. A sort of consistency that they could always rely on.

The school wasn't that far from their house, only about a 15 minute drive, 20 with traffic. About ten minutes before classes started was when they pulled up, Frisk grabbing their bag, kissing their mom on the cheek and waving off a "Have a good day!" from their mom before slamming the door. Floods of students came in from busses and cars and sidewalks, most talking in groups or pairs. Some, like Frisk, walked on their own, heads down usually listening to music. The school overhang housed a little pavilion with benches where some students slept and chatted and waited while the warmish weather was still around.

"Hey Frisk! Over here!"

They looked up from the ground to see a gangly guy, dark in skin and hair, but warm in heart and eyes. Frisk responded with a wave and smile as they approached their friend.

"How you doin', Frisk? Feeling alright?"

They nod as the two begin to walk into the building.

"How's your throat feeling? Any better?"

With a shrug, they start to fiddle with their hands before George interrupted. "Don't worry about it, okay? I…do you think you could help me more with my sign at lunch? I still can't really understand it and I feel bad every time you have to write stuff down for me." Frisk nodded with a smile wider than normal.

"Thanks bud."

The two walked to class down through the crowded halls, pushing and shoving their way through the claustrophobia to a double-doored classroom. Light streamed through high windows in the ceiling, breaking up the pain that was the fluorescent bar lights. Walls were plain and the floors had the occasional red square panel worn down by years of kids trudging through them. A fairly plain school for fairly plain people.

The pair pushed in as the bell rung with students already taking up all the desks towards the front. The two found seats near the back, George telling Frisk all about his weekend and how, for the seventeenth time, they were invited out to his parent's cabin any time. And for the seventeenth time, they signed they'd think about it. He merely shrugged, pushing up his glasses as the teacher came in, an interpreter close behind. Not like they'd do much as Frisk knew not to speak much in class. The person was hired last minute when she came into the new year since the one they had known since they were young retired. It was a sad day. The interpreter merely sat on her phone the entire time.

Students one by one passed up their homework from the night before as the teacher came across, collecting it and continuing with the lesson plan for the day. Frisk took their notes, but mostly stuck to doodling the things from their dreams. The skeleton faces. The fish and dinosaurs and goats.

And a flower. A daisy-like flower with the horrifying of faces. Their mom had sent Frisk to therapy since they were about five. Her name was Regina and she didn't really help much. Depression. Anxiety. Night terrors. Schizophrenia. It didn't matter what it was, no amount of medication ever helped. It was just a lukewarm façade. Something that was really supposed to help, but Frisk wasn't crazy, right? It was just a dream and they'd forget all about it soon enough.

This went on for two classes, first English and second maths. Both times, Frisk was doodling and working and working. Figments of her imagination ran rampant during class as that was the only time they felt like these ideas came to fruition. It's was mostly vague thoughts and theories she'd bounce off of George, since passing notes in their case was less of a distraction and more of a necessity in order to communicate effectively with the rest of the class. Or so it was meant to. Thankfully, George would just lie to help a buddy out. He would normally get in trouble if they got caught, but he could smooth talk his way out of it.

Lunch came by and Frisk was able to find a small table towards the back of the lunch area. The space was relatively open, concrete columns painted red scattered occasionally through the area. Tables were fairly close together, chairs sliding between them with different students. Some sat on the floors in circles, chatting about last night's homework or some project coming up or something they saw online. Frisk took their lunch out of their bag, beginning to munch on some peanut butter and jelly sandwich as George came back over with a tray of school food that didn't seem really all too appetizing. A cheese sandwich, some carrot sticks and a small milk carton. To Frisk's concern, he merely shrugged. "Ah…y'know. Those subsidized lunches are usually shit. I'm sure I'll be fine." Frisk gave him half their sandwich.

"Thanks…you ready to help?" A nod. "Cool. Let's get started then."


	3. Have You Had Enough Yet?

Lunch ended faster than it took to get there, which was all fair. Frisk took time to teach George how to sign, carefully. Step by step, making sure to teach him everything he wanted to know and tried communicating with him at a pace of a word every couple seconds. He was improving at his alphabet, so there was that. In the very least, he could finger spell things. He tried his best and that's more than Frisk could have asked for from someone they'd only know for a few years. It wouldn't be long before Frisk could actually hold a conversation with someone they liked.

Third period came sooner than liked. Frisk and George headed to their meet-up spot for the trip. There were already about twenty students huddled around, speaking in groups or looking at phones. An older man with a clipboard was going around taking a headcount. Tall, a medium beard that was brown but starting to gray up. Same with his hair. His small rectangular glasses had to be pushed up every so often to keep from falling off his face. Frisk made eye contact and he nodded, looking back at his clipboard and scribbling some things down. It was only a few more minutes before the teacher cleared his throat.

"Attention students! Today we'll be taking a trip to Mount Ebott for a geological survey. Now, I'm going to be passing out worksheets when we get there and some bags. You'll be grouped up in pairs or in groups of three. I'll expect everyone to complete their own sheets, so be on your best behaviors. The mountain is also prone to rockslides, so please be careful. The waivers you signed at the beginning of the week are applicable here. Now, file on the bus outside and find your seats. Don't push, please."

Students stopped listening about half way through, but Frisk was excited. Nobody was allowed on the mountain if they weren't accompanied by someone who was working on the mining that was going to start soon. There were whispers on the way there. About the trip. About this being something more. Rumors were always spread about this teach having connections to some government agents or something ridiculous like that. Mostly based on the fact he never looked anyone in the eye, but always looked like he was looking at something else slightly behind them. It was unnerving, sure, but he was smart, and that's what Frisk liked the most.

The bus was crowded as Frisk made their way towards the back. And the back was already full, so they decided on a nice mid-seat with a window. The grey of the sky broke a bit into streaks of sun, a glimmer of bright breaking through the monotonous tones of the world. Frisk fiddled with their fingers, just waiting for the bus to start moving as the rest of the students on the bus. It was clear that the teacher was rushing kids on.

George took a seat next to Frisk, the two continuing the lesson from lunch. Other students that passed by gave looks that could make skunks get sick. Frisk paid them no mind, however. The looks couldn't bother her anymore. It was everything she'd been accustomed to since she was young. Being the only mute kid was hard. There weren't really deaf kids either, so George was the only one she had to talk with sign.

The bus trip took little less than an hour, mostly it taking long enough to get through all the checkpoints. All the paperwork had to be processed and, at one point, two stoic-faced guards joined the bus, sitting at the front. It was probably mostly for intimidation factor and hype as well, seeing as the chatter on the bus increased two fold once the soldiers came on. Kids poked and prodded, but they sat still, just ahead, as if they weren't even here to start with.

The bus soon came to a halt, the door swinging open as the students all began rustling for their bags. The professor at the front of the bus stood, clearing his throat to get everyone's attention.

"Now students. remember. We are here for only a few hours. Be sure to complete this worksheet before you get back to the bus. These two fine gentlemen will be overseeing this trip as to make sure none of you get in any danger or trouble while you're here. This is protected land, mind you, so no littering and no leaving the designated areas. Now, go have fun!"

A herd of students flushed off the bus, each getting into their own groups and rushing off to one area or another to search the mountainside for any hints or clues to support all the rumors of this place. Frisk left with their bag over their shoulder, taking in the view.

Nevertheless, it was breathtaking.

From this height, the clouds seemed to fade with a sun breaking through. The green of the rolling land below seemed to give way to the sea line so brilliantly blue. The rustle of the town didn't translate up muted and nullified by the overbearing size of the mountain. A large mute on the chaos that was everyday life. Frisk took a moment to breathe, really let it set in. The world was so small. People so little. Yet, somehow the hate and rage of the world seemed to envelop everything. Even with such a beautiful view, the thought was disheartening.

"Frisk! C'mon let's go find some rocks!"

With a well meaning sigh, Frisk turned to George, moving the bag to more firmly over her shoulder as the pair began walking further up the mountain's paths.

"So, do you think we'll find that mysterious hole all those myths have talked about?"

Shrug.

"I hope so. That'd be so cool…though if they haven't found it by now I guess it probably doesn't exist. Ah well." A defeated sigh later, the pair continued their trudge. Every so often they'd stop to look at an interesting rock, put it in their bag, and mark down on their sheets. It didn't take long for all the students to finish, plus or minus a few, so they all began to wander, smaller groups growing larger. Frisk and George found their own little cave and began to practice signing again, Frisk telling jokes and laughing when George recreated them poorly. He tried, but it was still a little funny to watch.

"Guys! Everyone c'mon!"

"Dude are you serious?"

"Hey don't push!"

A rush of students ran past the pair, running up the hill in a hurry. Words became jumbled and faint as peoples passed by. A mass formed towards one of the plateaus. Frisk got up and immediately began to run and join the others. Mumbles couldn't have been made out, but still, Frisk continued on. George's calls to wait up faded towards the back. Maybe if they found out what this was, people would like them more. People would appreciate them more…

The crowd stopped eventually, Frisk ending up having to move through people with polite pushes and shoves. What was there…was not what they expected.

A hole. A huge hole. The likes of which hadn't been seen. The bottom was endless void. Straight down it seemed.

"Hey Frisk."

An eerily and angrily familiar voice. Jennifer Harley.

"What? Ready to jump in that hole?"

Jennifer Harley was the kind of head bitch of the class. Beautiful, smart, able to hold her own in most sports. She was one of the most admired students in the entire school. She was kind to most everyone. But, Frisk was an exception, as their disability made it hard for them to tell Jennifer how they really felt. It didn't matter though. Ever since Jennifer learned about Frisk's disability, it had been the talking point of the school, which didn't exactly fly by her. She tried to make it seem like Frisk was doing it only for attention. That they weren't really mute, but didn't feel like talking. Since she didn't know sign, it was only a matter of time before Frisk just gave up and began ignoring her.

Well, up until now, that is.

"C'mon. It doesn't seem that far down. Not like anyone can hear you scream if it is."

"Lay off Jess. This isn't funny."

"Well, if they don't like it, say something then."

Frisk was mute, hands frozen to fists. Words weren't an option now, it seemed. Slowly the crowd started cheering.

Jump

Jump

Jump

Jump

Frisk turned around, making eye contact with Jessica before falling backwards into the dark unknown.


End file.
